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by joey (williammurderface)



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, he’s a damn child, someone help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williammurderface/pseuds/joey
Summary: He’s finally been released from juvenile hall after an agonizing 5 years. He hadn’t seen his family since he was a toddler, and suddenly the aspect of seeing his mother after so long is daunting to a 10 year old Trent Boyett.





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**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before the events of Preschool. Figured Trent would’ve gone straight home before setting off on his path of revenge.
> 
> Might do a follow up depending on feedback.

They were at least courteous enough to drive him all the way back to town, even though the cuffs secured tightly around his wrists felt extremely unnecessary to him. It was how things in his life were though, he didn’t expect his treatment to improve any time within the past 5 years.

Still, a bitter taste was left in his mouth at the fact he was going through all this at the age of 10. The fact he’d been in the juvenile detention hall center for half his life is something that angers him beyond comprehension, and yet no one bats an eye. No sympathy. He gets looks from his old prison mates when he leaves, he’s long since departed with his recent cellmate. Something about toilet paper, he believes.

He doesn’t expect anything else though, it’s how it’s always been. He’s the toughest guy in juvy history. The 5 year old that set his teacher on fire. That’s all they need to know to stay away, no one fucks with a guy who’s been in the slammer since he wore diapers.

Learning to read and write in there, learning to use a toilet properly in there, spending 5 of his birthdays in there- it leaves his chest  _ burning  _ with anger. He had to grow up before he could live his own childhood, which had been ripped away from him even before the incident.

It’s not fair.

His hands squeeze into fists, knuckles bone white as he keeps his head down to stare at the floor for the duration of the ride back into South Park. He doesn’t want to see the damn place, the name alone of his old home sent a gut wrenching nausea to his stomach.

He never thought he’d see it again, he grew up in prison, he only ever knew it as his home. It was an unwanted change that he now has to move past, to forget if he wants closure to come quicker.

“We’re here, Boyett.”

Is he really ready for this? Does he even deserve it?

Should a guy like him even be out?

No. He didn’t do anything wrong, it wasn’t his fault.

He feels the officers yank him out from the backseat and he doesn’t resist, wrists sore when they remove the cuffs. He shakes out his wrists, blue eyes glancing up to glare at the grown men.

It really should fill him with pride that an 10 year old boy could intimidate two adult men with a single look, but he  **_hates_ ** the fact people don’t even see him as an 10 year old boy. They never did. Not when he was arrested, not during court. He was a monster.

A boy who had dreams and plans, that burned up along with his teacher the day those 5 decided to screw him over for life.

He feels his gut twist and drop when he looks over to the overgrown, yet nostalgic view of the town’s trailer park. His eyes desperately scan for the tiny, yet quaint looking trailer that he had called home for only 5 years of his 10 year long life.

That fact gets him feeling absolutely nauseated and  _ angry _ but he forces his legs to move towards the park, suddenly feeling how sweaty his palms really were.

The woods were a lot more daunting than he remembered, noting how tall the pines behind the small community had gotten. It dawns on him, that a lot can and did change in only 5 years and suddenly, the tough, mean kid that set his teacher on fire is a scared, 10 year old boy that doesn’t want his mother to see how much  _ he’s  _ changed in 5 years.

His breath is caught in his throat when he sees the stone path leading to his mother’s trailer, painting with soft colors and budding flowers planted along the pathway.

It’s hard to breathe when he realizes this is real and not one of the many dreams he had each night. He’s here, he’s made it, and he can be here for as long as he want.

There’s a tightness gripping at his heart when he reaches the doorstep.

He’s home.

“...Ma?”

He doesn’t have to rot in there anymore.

He knocks.

It’s okay.

Blue eyes well up when the door opens. A visage of pink, blonde curls and pearls that he’s  _ craved  _ to see for so long coming into view.

“Trenton!”

His body shakes and he can’t keep up that facade that’s almost become too real to pretend he’s had for so long. He’s a boy who wants his mother.

He jumps into her arms.

The hand running through his hair is enough to crack him, sobs wailing into the young woman’s chest.

For that single moment, he disregards his overwhelming, undying thirst for revenge only for himself and his mother.

Trent Boyett is where he belongs.


End file.
